To Travel With Wings

Tonight the sea was calm. Silnar stood at the prow of the ark, watching the moonlight ripple over the gentle waves. The past few nights, storms had rocked the ark, causing sickness among the Avari. The lost Eldar were unfamiliar with being sick and it had been very hard for them. Silnar smiled to herself. It seemed as if no creature was immune to the ills of seasickness. Long fingers caressed the smooth wood of the ship. In the distance, Silnar could make out the hazy gray of land. Aman was almost within their grasp.

Instead of happiness, though, Silnar felt trepidation, anxiety. No longer could she hide from her past. It was time to face it, to accept that she was different and that this life she lived now was little more then a charade. Tears smarted at the corner of her eyes, and Silnar demurely wiped them away. Tonight the stars seemed brighter then ever, as if they were reaching out to her, granting comfort. Yet, Silnar found no consolation in them tonight; they seemed so distant and cold, like she felt inside.

Inside the cavernous holds of the ark, Silnar could imagine the rush of the Avari as they scurried to prepare for their landing. Minyatúr would be down there, leading, doing what he did best. She had to smile at that. Here was her silver lining. The Lost Ones would be lost no more. Silnar had no doubt that the Valar would accept the Avari, what scared her was whether or not she could return.

Silnar closed her eyes tightly. No, she could not, would not think of him. To do so would mean losing what little control she had right now. Right, she needed to be thinking of her next move. Since they set sail, the dreams had stopped. Silnar was unsure if she should go alone to the Valar or if she should bring Minyatúr.

“Hinya, you should be asleep. It will be a long day for all of us tomorrow, especially you.”

“I will, Minyatúr. I am just trying to sort my thoughts.”

The dark elf moved next to Silnar and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder in comfort. “Can I assist you in anyway?”

Shaking her head, Silnar smiled sadly at her friend. “I fear that my thoughts must be my burden alone. I would not even know where to begin.”

“The beginning is usually the best place.”

Laughing, ar sar squeezed Minyatúr’s hand. “I fear that beginning is lost with the past. I will stand here a few minutes more and then I will find my bed.”

Minyatúr nodded and, with one last pat, returned to the hold. Silnar gripped the railing of the ship and leaned forward, breathing deeply of the sea air.

“Ulmo, great Lord of the Seas, if you can hear me now, grant me safe passage, grant me peace of mind.”

Sighing, Silnar turned away and sat down, leaning against the side of the ship. It was warm tonight and Silnar had no wish to return to the cramped hold. She would sit here for awhile; maybe sleep for a few moments…

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Silnar awoke with the gentle rocking of the ship. There was no activity and from the soft shadows on the deck, she knew that the sun was barely rising. Pushing herself to her feet, Silnar stretched out her groaning muscles, paying close attention to her neck. That would be the last time she fell asleep on the deck.

Turning, Silnar’s eyes widened. They had reached their destination. In the night, the ship had settled itself against a peer jutting out into the water. Clustered not far, were a group of elves, Teleri judging from their silver hair. At the sight of Silnar standing on the top deck, muttering could be discerned from their group.

Silnar ignored them as she straightened her dress and finger combed her hair. Moving on quiet feet, Silnar slipped downo tho the hold. Stretched out in various positions of repose was the entire village of Avari. From long days of practice, Silnar maneuvered her way around them to where Minyatur lay, watching her.

“We have reached Aman,” Silnar whispered.

The wise Elda nodded. “I know. I have been waiting for you.”

If Silnar was surprised, she did not show it. “I think I will go alone, Minyatur. If I do not come bacth tth the rising of tomorrow’s sun, I want you to sail away back to Arda.”

Minyatur merely nodded, although both knew he would never follow her instructions. Silnar had become an integral part of the Avari’s lives and they would not abandon one they had adopted as their own.

“May the Valar welcome you, Silnar.”

“May they welcome us all,” she returned before exiting the hold.

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The sun had risen higher and the group on the beach had grown. Silnar grimaced as she imagined how she must look. Despite the ever present glow, it could not hide the griminess of her appearance. Water had been scarce and used frugally. Unable to help herself, Silnar pushed away her anxiety and threw over the rope ladder, skillfully climbing down to the peer.

Silnar stood still for several minutes to accustom herself to the stationary peer. Her legs were unused to the stillness of the earth. When she felt confident enough to move, Silnar hurried off the peer and stopped before the group of Teleri.

They were absolutely beautiful. Silnar had never seen Eldar of such surpassing grace. All of them bore the trademark silver hair and dark eyes. They were all tall and very slender, but there was strength in their hands. The group watched her warily. Silnar herself was unsure of whether or not she should go around them or speak to them. Her dilemma was answered by pounding hooves.

Sand flew as a great horse skidded to a halt, a dark elf of the Noldor leaping from its back.

“She is not to be harmed or detained,” he spoke in ancient Quenya. “She is to be seen by Manwë immediately.”

An Elda distinguished himself from the group, and Silnar wondered at how she had overlooked him. If it was possible, he was even more beautiful then all the Eldar combined. Silnar knew immediately she was looking on the King of the Teleri, Olwë.

“Welcome to Alqualondë, stranger. If you are to be met by Manwë, then you must be friend.”

Silnar curtsied regally. “I thank you, Olwë, King of the Teleri.”

Noticing that the Noldo was anxious to be on his way, Silnar swung herself on the horse. The Noldo mounted in front of her and they raced off up the paths that led to Máhanaxar, where the Valar held their councils.

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Máhanaxar was intimidating in its size. It was a great circle of stone in which 15 thrones were hewn, one of which remained empty. In the center of the circle, part of the stone was raised, a place to stand, for whoever wished to address the Valar. Directly in front of the circle was the throne of Manwë Súlimo. Manwë was an imposing figure, tall and strong of limb. His hair was light and moved gently. Here was the King of Arda, Lord of the West.

To his right sat his Queen and wife, Varda Elentári, who was the most beautiful of all of Arda, the Lady of the Stars. Her hair was dark and her eyes were a deep blue, the stars in their midst. She was grace and beauty combined, and she smiled gently when she saw Silnar.

To the left of Manwë sat Ulmo, King of the Seas. He was indistinct, seeming to fade in and out, like waves. But he was here, at council, which he rarely attended unless the matter was of great importance.

To the right of Varda sat Yavanna Kementári, Queen of the Earth. She was brown of skin and hair, but her eyes were a gentle green, like the soft grass. Yavanna did not smile when she saw Silnar, but her eyes turned sad.

To the left of Ulmo sat Aulë the Smith, husband to Yavanna. He was large and strong, being the craftsman of the Valar. He was dark like his wife and he too looked on Silnar with sadness.

To the right of Yavanna sat Nienna, the Lady of Tears. Her eyes welled on seeing Silnar, and she wept as she thought of her fate.

To the left of Aulë sat Oromë, the Huntsman of the Valar. He was tall and built large, and he held his great horn. Oromë had discovered the Eldar oh so long ago.

To the right of Nienna sat Estë the Gentle. She was diminutive, but had gentle eyes that were filled with inner strength. She smiled at Silnar.

To the left of Oromë sat Mandos, the Doomsman of the Valar, and brother to Nienna. He was dark and ominous and when he looked at Silnar, knew all of her hidden secrets and desires.

To the right of Estë sat Vairë the Weaver, spouse of Mandos. Through her fingers went all the strings of Arda’s life.

To the left of Mandos sat Irmo, commonly known as Lórien, God of Dreams. He was brother to Mandos and Nienna and husband of Estë.

To the right of Vairë sat Vána the Ever-young, sister to Yavanna and spouse of Oromë. Nature was said to bloom as she passed.

To the left of Irmo sat Tulkas, strongest of the Valar. Here sat a warrior, and in his hands he held death. Melkor feared him above all the Valar besides Manwë.

To the right of Vána sat Nessa, the spouse of Tulkas and sister to Oromë. She was lithe and loved to dance on the green land of Valinor.

These were the Valar as they sat in Máhanaxar and the ones who would decide the fate of Silnar and her Avari.